Letters From Emelan
by sorka robinton
Summary: A Briar/Sandry story told in short scenes and exerpts from letters, over several years. I apologize for any errors in detail because i haven't read street magic. review please?
1. briar's room

hi this is my weird thing...italics mean they're writing letter/mindspeech okay...these are short bits/scenes/letters.   
  
oh and wait, how old were they when they left? and how old when they come back? and where the heck did they all go, and with whom? who are their apprentices? gee im clueless...yikes. i would appreciate some info, please, because i haven't read briar's co book.   
  
ff.net was down, so im writing all these chapters...so if i post tehm all at once and theres errors, i'll edit it.   
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"Really," the twelve year old said, his heavy shoes making the hall echo with clumping, "I feel funny being here, in a fancy kind of place like this."   
  
"Why?" Sandry said, candid as ever. "It's just a room."   
  
"Yeah, but-" Briar made an expressive arm movement that took in the entire stone hallway- "it's fancy compared to Discipline." The heavily embroidered tapestries, glamorous with their gold-threaded surfaces, covered the grey stone walls that were the former trademarks of the plain Duke's castle.   
  
"Which is," she remarked dryly, "under construction after your latest experiment."   
  
He held up his hands in apology. "Didn't know that it would grow that way! It was a ficus tree, for gods' sake."   
  
Sandry's bright blue eyes glowed with facination, remembering the mess of twigs and leaves, the litter of bark and roots through the window. "It tore open the _roof. _That was an _amazing _experiment. That fertilizer must have had some potent materials in it, because..."   
  
"Rosethorn didn't think so." An image flashed through his mind, of the short Dedicate screaming and jumping as her magic flowed through the poor ficus tree and it retracted into its old pot. And her forefinger and thumb on his ear.   
  
"Ah, well." Sandry's light voice blithely dismissed the _greatest_ source of anger in the world. "She's at the Earth temple now, finding a new and sophisticated way to collect samples from infected patients. Lark's here too, but in one of the weaving rooms. Daja is being a hermit at the forge, as usual, and Tris is...where is Tris? Where is she going again?"   
  
_I'm with Niko, and still on a horse, to Gods' know where. I think it's a city a few score miles away, but with Niko, who can tell? _Tris' voice rang through their heads, sounding extremely irritated. _It's smelly and dark, and Niko insists that the inn is "just around the corner. He has said that seven times. Oh, damn! He just said it again!   
  
Um, okay, _Sandry replied. _Sorry to hear that.   
  
Hope the next dirty, stinky, muddy road that Niko chooses will be the right one, Coppercurls.   
  
_Tris slammed her magic down in front of her mindlink, the sound sending ringing noises through both of their ears.   
  
"Ouch."   
  
They were almost at the right hall. "Okay, Briar. Choose a room." Sandry gestured to the line of guest rooms. The former street-thief's eyes widened at the row of ornately furnished rooms, each decorated in brocades and silks.   
  
"How...? I thought you said your ol' Uncle had bland tastes, despite all them tapestries out there."   
  
"Well, Lark told the doctors that perhaps colors would brighten up Uncle's life, and health charms are woven into most of the tapestries..." Sandry rolled her eyes. "So in addition to the charmed weavings, he redecorated. Each room shares a bathroom in white, and the rooms are each a different color." Pointing to the first room on the left, she said, "This one's mine, for now."   
  
He looked in and made a face. "You chose yellow. Are they all different?"   
  
Grinning, she nodded. "And its not yellow, it's-" she altered her voice to be snobby and aristocratic, like the expensive hired decorator's- "honey, with warm golden highlights."   
  
"All right, that guy has a twisted little mind," Briar said dubiously. He had met the man once, with his strange curling mustache and artistic airs. "He was a cracked nut." Opening the first door after Sandry's, he didn't even look inside. "This one will be mine until Discipline unfloods."   
  
"What?!" she shrieked. "Unfloods?"   
  
"Oops, never mind." Walking directly into the room, he sighed with inner bliss. All green, like plants. That was kind of nice, like being in a forest, but without dirt and bugs. "Green. Good," he said blandly.   
  
Sandry giggled, twisting her long braid in both hands. "That's the washroom we share, don't open the door if i'm in there," she said, pointing. "I'll be very mad."  
  
"All right, rules and regs over," he groaned. "I'm tired, gonna sleep now. Was up til four trying to get the water out."   
  
"You are going to tell me about the flooding, right?" she asked.   
  
"Later, so you won't be mad...kay?"   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~`  
  
Despite the comfortable softness of the feather mattress and silken quilts, Briar tossed and turned for hours before dropping into an uneasy sleep.   
  
He was walking through Discipline, unflooded and un-ficused, he noticed. His feet were bare, as it was in all of his dreams, yet his shirt sleeves were uncut and perfectly clean, an unusual circumstance. "Hello?" he called. Even the kitchen was empty of Lark, and the workrooms bare of life. He trotted outside. "Little Bear? Sandry?"   
  
Girlish giggling, though it sounded like Daja's voice. Strange. Briar groaned, staring up at the roof. The three girls stood on the crisp thatch, laughing down at him. "Where did you go?" Sandry said, holding a ball of pure white yarn in her right hand. "Here, hold on to this." She tossed down the free end of the cord, its end landing directly in the center of his palm.   
  
Grabbing the yarn, the world suddenly spun wildly, until he no longer knew which way was up and which was down. Discipline disappeared, and he was falling through blackness, its pressing darkness only cut by Sandry's gleaming white yarn. It grew taut, and her voice screamed, "Hang on, Briar! Don't you dare let go!"   
  
He clutched at the string as he landed with a thump to the cobblestones. The road of death, he remembered. The dull grey stones devoid of life..."No!" he cried, "Not here!" The three girls shouted, and the yarn began to tremble.   
  
Someone crumpled to the ground next to him. The tanned skin, slightly messy hair of Flick, his friend! Turning her over, Briar shook her shoulders but her head simply rolled limply. But wait...it wasn't Flick's still form in his hands, it was Sandry, her light brown braids tangling his hands, blue eyes closed. He yelled, and the yarn spun in a circle around them both, causing their bodies to fly through the air straight towards the stone wall...  
  
And he hit the floor with a thump.   
  
After a moment, Sandry carefully opened the door, trusty rock in hand. "All okay?" she said quietly. He nodded, shaken yet. Hey, at least she wasn't dead, right? He had bad dreams before, why was he being such a ...a chuffle about this?   
  
"Want to share?" Her voice was noncommital, offering him either option with no consequences. Briar watched her through heavy eyelids, before shaking his head slowly. He'd tell her later, he decided, after a brief moment of introspection.   
  
She smiled, carefully, because he figured he still looked sort of frazzled. "I'll just sit here for a while, then go back. All right?" Sandry said, placing her rock on the green quilt.   
  
He nodded, still rather speechless. Well, she ain't dead, he reminded himself, so he lay back on the soft pillows and tried to doze.   
  
Of course, it didn't work. He simply could not get the image out of his mind. Briar _knew _how dead bodies lay like empty pieces of matter, because of Flick and his friend Rat from so many years ago. But he never expected to see any of the Circle that way, least of all his glorious Lady Sandrilene.   
  
His?!  
  
I must be sleepy, it's affecting my brain, he decided, shutting his mind off with determination. As if not thinking is a good thing. Niko would slaughter me.   
  
So he lay there, watching through nearly-closed eyelids as Sandry slowly began to slump over with sleep, curling up near the foot of the canopied bed, hand loosely wrapped around the glowing clear rock. Not dead, he reminded himself.   
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  



	2. goodbye

hi everyone! i wrote this chapter while fanfic.net was off...hehehes  
  
thanks samantha. im still clueless, but not as clueless! i was wondering, does anyone know briar's student's name, and the city he lives in?  
  
however, im pretty sure i've screwed up. its entirely inaccurate. deal with it. im going to be in a worse mood than i already am. for one, their teachers arent' with them, but im too lazy to change it now. besides...i want rosethorn hanging out with crane. :)  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Sandry, almost fourteen years old   
  
"Are you _sure _you're going to leave?" Sandry wailed. Tris shrugged, looking away.   
  
"I'm pretty sure," she said shortly, pushing her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. Daja grimaced, fingers probing the blisters on her right palm. The boy in the shadows, curled in a large chair, let out a loud sigh.   
  
"I wonder what they have in store for us," he grumbled. "Torture, most likely."   
  
The trader girl grinned. "Only torture for you, if Rosethorn catches you cutting up capers. And you will, boy."   
  
"Oh, be quiet, _trangshi."   
  
_"This is terrible!" Sandry cried aloud. "I'm going to be the only one left here...doing nothing!"   
  
"Not nothing," Tris said. "You get to stay with your Uncle, right? And Lark, and Rosethorn, and everyone..." She sniffed.   
  
Sandry managed a teary smile. "Well, for at least tonight," she said with a sigh, "You'll be staying at the finest establishment in Emelan!" Daja groaned, throwing a small pillow at her friend.   
  
"You mean we're staying in the most colorful place in Emelan," Daja moaned. "It's like a Nemornese rainbow quilt." Sandry laughed.  
  
~~~~~~~~`  
  
The last hours were unbearable, almost. The dinner they sat through, food as stiff as cardboard in their mouths, went too quickly for words, though they each sat as quietly as mice.   
  
The circle split up after that, shortly, each taking their bundles to three different carriages. Tris snuffled, eyes red and puffy; Daja's hands twisted their mate to near-strangulation, Briar bit his lip hard, and Sandry wrung her braid in both hands.   
  
Niko cleared his throat. "Well,..." They looked up. "It's time, all of you."   
  
"When will we all visit again, together?" Sandry asked, forlorn. "All of us?"   
  
He cleared his throat. "It depends, you know. If there are vacation times granted by all teachers, the weather clears up..." His eyebrows snapped together suddenly with a thought. "Tris, don't interfere with it." She made a small protesting sound. "But some of you might meet up someplace."  
  
"Will we be able to talk to each other, you know, with the mind thing?" Briar said quietly, too softly for his usual personality. "If we're so far away?"   
  
"I don't know."   
  
Tris' wagon left first, and each of the Circle gave her a tentative hug as she bundled into the back of the empty cart. "Bye," she said gruffly, but sobbed into her hankerchief as the carriage rolled down the dirt road and away from her only friends.   
  
Throwing her staff into the wagon, Daja remarked, "I don't want to be the last," and hugged her friends again before jumping into the empty seat in the front. "And I know I don't want to ride in the back." Her driver chuckled, handing her an oiled robe as drops began to patter down from the grey sky.   
  
"And Tris isn't here to make it all go away," Briar mumbled.   
  
"I think it's raining because she's crying," Sandry offered, feeling teary herself. "And she cut us off from mindspeech again," she said sadly, her magic feeling the iron solidness of the sparkling blue barrier.   
  
"Bye, Daja!" Sandry called, waving wildly in the rain, not even caring that her pretty pink dress was becoming soaked, or that it was freezing. The trader waved back, pinching her arm fiercely though her eyes still watered against her will.   
  
Briar sighed. "Now I gotta go, too." Sandry let out a little moan, dress plastered down by the downpour. "This is awful."   
  
"I know!" she wailed. "We're all seperated! When are we going to see each other again?" She hugged him tightly for an instant, before drawing away and sniffing into her kerchief.   
  
"I don't know," he said sadly. To his dismay, he sniffed a few times, blinking hard. Sandry smiled a weepy grin and found a lace-hemmed hankerchief, spelled to stay clean. Wiping his face, as no one had done since...well, no one had ever done, she grinned at his halfhearted glare.   
  
"Don't move," she said. "I might poke you in the eye," she teased, before bursting into tears and flinging herself at his neck and kissing him once, on the lips. Eyes clouding over, he realized with a start that he couldn't think correctly when she did that.   
  
He didn't actually mind affection, but he did mind the 'strangeness' of being so close, which had been bothering him for several months now. He didn't like any weirdness that he couldn't control. Did friends kiss each other goodbye?   
  
He was actually considering meeting her halfway in this, but she had already pulled away, and was crying her eyes out, so he couldn't think about it anymore. Hugging her one more time, gingerly because she was sobbing, he hopped into his cart and disappeared down the road.   
  
Sandry trudged in, abandoned. "Uncle?" she called softly. He opened the door to his study and smiled his most reassuring smile as she stepped inside, desolate.   
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
  



	3. the letter, crossouts, and a dream

i hope my details are okay...i think its all screwed up tho. if its really bad, i'll edit it but otherwise i wont.  
  
obviously letters weren't sent that slowly, but im lazy so...its slow so i dont have to write too many letters for them.   
  
bye!  
  
oh my god the site was just back up, and i wrote like what 7 chapters already with rosethorn still in emelan and not mentioning his apprentice evvy...oh im screwed...well, deal with it. yikes. this is awful. well, pretend nothing happened, okay? i suppose it will be how sorka imagined it...ahhh...  
  
~~~~~~~~~~ Briar, fourteen years old  
  
_Dear Briar,   
  
How are you? I miss you all already, and it's only been three short weeks since your first letter. What is it like in that city? I know you refused to tell me in your letter, but I really want to know!  
  
Uncle's doing better, Briar, but I was so worried. His lips turned blue, and Moonstream nearly ripped a handful of hair out of her head in frustration. And she's such an experienced healer! He works too hard, and I've moved permanently to Emelan from Discipline to keep an eye on him. Did you know he worked 15 hour days? No wonder he got a heart attack.   
  
But I remembered what you did to Rosethorn, and tied him into his body with thread magic. I think it worked, for now, though the nurses were angry when I demanded to be admitted to his room. It's rather embarrassing.   
  
Do you think this is a "breakthrough" in medicine, or just something that healers already use? I mean, we've done it twice, and though it's draining...it worked. Wouldn't it be wonderful if our Circle had discovered this useful thing? Actually, I rather doubt that.   
  
Tris wrote from her location, unfortunately a "hole in the wall" rented room, as she put it. Daja's was nicer, at least. Did they describe it to you, or did they spare your tender soul and not elaborate on settings?   
  
I watered your _shakkan_, Briar. I hope it doesn't mind being away from you too much. It seems sad, but its not drooping at least. And also, I, as unofficial hostess of Emelan, am refusing for anyone to use the green, grey, and orange rooms so they're the Circle's until you all come back. I don't want anyone else's stinky presence there instead of yours. And I don't want to share a washroom...just kidding. No guests come here often, and most don't wish to choose rooms that view the gardens. Most want the vast "mysterious harbor, with it's sapphire waters and picturesque boats."   
  
Oh, it's so lonely here! It seems so quiet without Tris' thunderstorms, Daja stumbling in covered with soot, and your plants erupting right and left. I watered your shakkan, so you don't have to worry. I put plenty of potted plants around it, like you said, so perhaps it won't be so lonely. I miss you all, and I hope you can come back soon!   
  
Much love, Sandry  
  
_He smiled, holding the pale green stationary in his hand. Too bad the mail took so long to send, two months each way. He wished they could mindspeak instead. Six months, and only two letters, one from her and one from him. He missed them all so badly, especially Sandry in a way.   
  
Did they discover something new? Doubt it, he told himself. He was such a bleater to even consider it. A small bundle fell out of the envelope, tumbling to the floor. He picked it up.   
  
It was a green cloth, woven finely out of silk threads, like a scarf, with embroidered briars and blooming scarlet roses. It was only a hands length long and wide, but it lay warmly between his palms. "That's pretty," he said aloud. He read the letter again. "Much love?" He wondered a bit, but decided it was nothing, though his cheeks warmed with the thought. "Nah, couldn't be," he told himself, though in a strange way, he wanted it so.   
  
The son of the owner of the building, his age, danced into the room. "Hey, Briar!" Zak yelled. "What's happening, street boy?" Grabbing the letter, his blue eyes (lighter than Sandry's, Briar noticed) scanned the page quickly. "This from your _girlfriend?" _  
  
"No," he replied with a cuff to his friend's head, "It's from my friend who's a girl."   
  
"Isn't it the same thing?" Zak teased, his constantly mussed hair nearly glowing in the lamplight. The dim light made his broken nose, crookedly set, seem even more strangely shadowed.   
  
"Naw, just my ol' mate, Sandry."   
  
"_Mate? _And look here, Moss, she wrote 'love.' "  
  
He should have learned his lesson with stuffy old Crane. "Mate as in friend," he said patiently, "And girls are weird like that all the time. Besides, she's a noble," he suggested, though he knew his cheeks burned.   
  
"Yeah, well, still. Shut up and come down to dinner. Ma says the stew is ready." Briar wrapped the bit of green scarf in his hankerchief (well, Sandry's, because he didn't own any other) and stuffed it hastily in his pocket before following Zak.   
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
He sat at his desk, a dented piece of wood carved into the shape of a table, holding the quill in his right hand. "What do I write?" The bit of scarf fluttered back at him, the glossy roses shining in the lamplight.   
  
"Ah, well." Biting his lip, he tried to remember everything his teachers had taught him about writing.   
  
_Hey Sandry,   
  
How is it over there in ol' Emelan? How's Lark and Rosethorn, and Little Bear?   
  
Well, the city's not as bad as everyone said. It's grey, and rainy, but my room ain't sounding as bad as Tris'. I rent a room from this family, one of their boarders, and they have a son named Zak my age. It's not the same as annoying you and Daja, but it's a tolerable substitute. He's blue eyed like you, and shorter than me. Maybe even shorter than Tris.   
  
I miss that little tree, too. But I think Rosethorn was right when she said the weather here wasn't too good for it. The moisture would make it turn brownish.   
  
How is your Uncle? I hope his heart is getting better, and that them who look after him take care of him good. I heard from Niko about that tapestry incident, good for you. Those dung beetles should have let you into the room anyway, serves them right to be cocooned.   
  
Rosethorn mentioned that the thing we did might not work all the time, only to them who we're connected to, either magically or mentally. I don't know, maybe we did find something, maybe not. I think we should talk about it when we meet again, though when thats gonna be who knows.   
  
I miss you guys too, maybe sometime Niko will let us come back.   
  
_Briar paused. "What do I sign this with?" he asked himself, quietly, so that Zak wouldn't hear and burst in. Hmm. 'Love' was out of the question, wasn't it? 'Gods Bless'? He wasn't that religious, at least not the kind to spout 'gods' over and over again. Sincerely? He couldn't figure how to spell the last one.   
  
He wrote "love" once, but scratched it out.   
  
_XlXoXvXeX Bye, Briar.   
  
_It looked awful, but there were blotches on the paper anyway, so he simply dismissed the crossout. He almost sealed the envelope, but paused. Should he put something in it? She gave him that pretty green thing. Picking it up once more, the silk tickled his fingers. Then the sensation of being close to her again, which he quickly cut off before he went crazy at himself for being such a chuffle.  
  
What did he have to give her?   
  
Picking a sprig each of lavender, fern, miniature rose, and the deep blue faerie's eyes (his personal favorite) from his window plant collection, he quickly slammed it between the pages of a heavy book. Sufficiently flattened, he placed the small arrangement gently in the letter and waxed the envelope shut. Hopefully, the flowers wouldn't be messed up too badly in the long process of the mailing system.   
  
He sighed. It would be months, perhaps, before the letter reached Sandry, and months before he might get a reply. And he really did miss her, especially when those strange dreams came back. The color of the yarn changed at will, and Sandry didn't always die, but usually she ran away or fell or screamed or something bad, and it would have been so reassuring for her to be in the next room.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
He tossed and turned.   
  
_"Stop!" he cried out, voice echoing through the mazework of the grey stones. "Why won't you wait?"   
  
She turned to look at him, braids flying. "I can't! You have to catch up to me, or I can't tell you the secret!"   
  
"What?" He sprinted faster and faster, but the noble kept several feet ahead. Tris threw him a bit of wind to fly on, and he grasped her by the wrist. A part of his mind, not asleep, rejoiced that he had finally caught up to her. "What is the big secret?"   
  
Sandry squirmed, braids momentarily vines, but they disappered quickly. "Oh, fine. I have to tell you then." Leaning over, she kissed him on the lips playfully while his dream-body stood in shock. "That was my secret," she told him, before ducking out of his grasp and-  
  
_He sat up in bed. "What was that?" Briar rolled over and wriggled under the covers again, but his eyes remained open and questioning for the rest of the night. "What is wrong with me?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~  



	4. missing you

heys...btw *- star, um, well i put sandry and briar together not because tris is like ugly or something, which i don't actually believe, i think she's just too grumpy. i think their characters would clash a whole lot more than sandry and briar. also, she's kindhearted and stuff and his childhood sucked so much, that perhaps they could get along and his life could be happier. besides, i think them flirting could be kinda sweet, not a pissy thing like tris might do. "I like you." "So what? Leave me alone, I'm reading." though that would be a funny story i should consider. by the way, star, theres more...tris likes him too...yikes...not that i hate her or anything, though she's so grumpy, but it made some interesting things happen...  
  
well, just my thoughts...i have more reasons, but i forget right now.   
  
by the way, im sorry its all messed up. i told myself i would change it so rosethorn was with him but im too lazy. and by the way, im already in school, sniffs, so i might not be able to update everyday but i will make my goal at least every few days!  
  
~~~~~~~~~Sandry, fourteen   
  
Sandry smiled down at the small sprig of flowers. Breathing in deeply, she inhaled the clean scent of green growing things, though the flowers were pressed and obviously old. "Pretty," she commented aloud, her forefinger brushing the tip of the tiny blue blossoms. The dried petals crackled slightly, and she traced his clumsy signature with her thumb.  
  
"They're called faerie's eyes," Pasco said over her shoulder. Sandry jumped, before glaring at the boy. "What, just saying," he told her defensively.   
  
She sighed, counting to ten. And how did he always manage to get into her room? Last she had seen of him, he was with Yazmin in her Uncle's study, three halls away. "Faerie's eyes?"   
  
"The white blot in the middle and the blue petals. Mama used to grow them, until my brother accidentally broke the pot. They died," he explained. Jumping around the room, he asked, "Is that from your friends?"   
  
"Yeah, Briar, the street boy," she told him, already expecting the slight glower the provost-bred mage would give her. "Far away," she sighed. "It's been eight months or so since we last met, and letters send slowly."   
  
"That's sad."   
  
"Shouldn't you be practicing your dance steps for Yazmin?" she said, slightly irritable. "If you even brush the edge of that net..."   
  
"I know," Pasco whined half-heartedly. "I'll be sucked up into the mesh of nothing, suffering a horrible illness and perhaps death when you wind the net on your spindle. The little devil will not stop talking about it."   
  
"Well, it's important!" One low point, Sandry told herself, was having the teacher only two years older than the student. He won't listen to me! Patience. Don't take out your own fear on the poor boy...she softened. "We cannot let anything happen to you," she told him more gently.   
  
"But I can do it!"   
  
"Then do it again, please. There are some honey-cakes and tea coming soon, freshly baked by yours truly." She smiled as sweetly as she could, though her hands trembled slightly. Food, any kind of food, always subdued Briar, so maybe it could make Pasco calm down. "A treat before...tomorrow."   
  
He grunted and went to a clear area in the honey-gold room that Sandry had kept for herself in Emelan. Sufficiently satisfied with his obediance, she slowly read the letter, soaking in every bit of knowledge.   
  
A few minutes later, the letter nearly memorized, Pasco reappeared. "I did it three times," he said defensively, when she glared at him. "What's that?" He pointed to the blotch near the "_Bye, Briar." _"Is that...love?" he hooted. "He's your boyfriend?"   
  
Stifling the urge to propel her hankerchief into his mouth, Sandry counted to ten again. "No!" she cried aloud. "Probably can't spell." She could still feel her cheeks flushing red, though for what reasons she knew not. Pasco was just teasing anyway, what was the fuss? It wasn't as if she liked him that way...did she? He was attractive, she decided, with his curly mop of hair and green eyes. Funny, too, and a much more serious thinker than anyone would expect, with the bizzare things that came out of his mouth...then she remembered the last time they had seen each other, and what she had done, and blushed. She shoved the thought out of her head.   
  
She sat down at her golden-varnished wood desk, pen in hand. "What should I say?" she pondered, before setting the tip of the quill to the stationary. "How can I possibly describe these last few days, merchants piled into the strongest keep, weaving nothingness..." Her pen touched the paper, and her neat cursive graced the page with emerald green ink. "I wish you were here to talk to me." She missed his strange, sometimes pointless chatter the most, even the teasing tug on her short nose.   
  
_Dear Briar..._  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. the market, samer, and the ring

hi...star, -* heh whoops, yeah, tris and briar might have friction, but im being a traditional sandry/briar kind of person. hey, it would make a great story! i'll write it after i finish everything i started...which means the story "tris and briar" will appear on the site...well, lets see...in the year 2008. they would "friction" interestingly, like real life and how you constantly piss off the person you like when you're younger.   
  
mimi! my favorite digimon character! yes im strange. bye...  
  
~~~~~~~~briar fifteen  
  
"Zak, hurry up!" Briar called loudly. "I _have _to get to the market! Now!"  
  
The boy, now nearly the same height as his mage friend, tumbled down the stairs as he fumbled with a cloak. "Why the hurry?" he grumbled, trying to plaster down his spiky blond hair. "I just woke up."   
  
"It's noon!" Briar exclaimed. "And its also my free day from Rosethorn!"  
  
"Yah, but then again it's also the _rest _day. When we're supposed to rest. But why the hurry?"   
  
"I told you," he said, exasperated. "I must send out midwinter gifts by next month, or it won't reach their homes in time for the holiday." Zak's nodded. "And I don't know if I'll find what I want."   
  
"You sound like my mother."   
  
"Shut up."   
  
Wandering through stalls, filled with metal work, pottery, fabrics, rugs, and anything anyone could possibly sell or buy, Briar shook his head. "I can't send Daja metalcraft, and I can't send Sandry fabric, and I can't send Tris...well, anything that would offend her. Which is almost everything."   
  
They were nearing the more expensive boutiques. "Man, do you have enough for this stuff?" Zak said, squinting at the prices. "It's out of this realm."   
  
Briar nodded smugly. "I've been working on ways of witching seeds, and growing small plants in my room during the fall. I've saved a bundle, and besides, the his Dukeness in Emelan sends me an allowance. He's taken it upon himself that all four- well, all three- of us are sponsored by his estate."   
  
"Wow."  
  
A man tapped his shoulder. "You know the Duke of Emelan?" he asked hastily, leaning over his counter. Silks overflowed the small cart, brocades and pre-ordered shirts also stacked inside. " 'S rare that someone from there is in Yanjing."   
  
Briar maintained eye contact warily. "Why?"   
  
The man smiled widely. "I've been there a few months back, in the harbor for my trade. His niece Lady Sandrilene fa Toren, Princess of Nemorn, took great interest in the cargo, and supplied us with some magicked items. Sorry to eavesdrop, but that's my trade, isn't it?"   
  
The street-boy gaped. "What's this about Princess? Sandry ain't no princess...is she?"   
  
The craftsman held out his hand. "Samer of the Aschulin clan, Silk Guild. And the beautiful Lady Sandrilene _is _a princess, since that strange infestation of chillfever killed half of the royal family in Nemorn. She was a close relative, so they pronounced her one of six princesses. Strange, these times are..."  
  
Rosethorn had mentioned a plague...but he hadn't known Sandry was a princess. "That beats all, doesn't it? I didn't know. Thanks. She gave you stuff to trade?"  
  
The merchant brought out a silky scarf. "Spelled for dryness. Good magic, she did. Lady Sandrilene was wandering around the harbor, dragging some poor, prissy boy the Nemornese must have been attempting to match-make with. Spent three hours staring at cloth, smart girl. Spunk. Dragged him through the streets and market the whole day. I think only his honor, and her prettiness, kept him from abandoning her when she went to visit the fishport."   
  
Briar laughed. "That sounds like her. I'm surprised she didn't push him in the water." He wondered about suitors for Sandry. It made him feel strange, because...well, to be honest with himself, he kind of wanted to be one of them.   
  
"She would do that?"   
  
"Sandry's done that before. Not to a suitor, but to a bully." His eye caught a bronzish-gold brocade cloth. "I'm Briar Moss, and that's nice stuff. Does your Guild-thing personalize your cloth?"   
  
Samer grinned. "We also make it into _things_, too."   
  
Zak stared as money changed hands. "Can it be a cloth this and this long and wide-" Briar gestured with his hands- "With a crest stitched onto it?"   
  
"Provided you give us a picture or sketch of this crest. That's kind of important, isn't it? We can have it done in a few days." Briar grinned.   
  
"I'll drop by with the crest tomorrow, and pick it up in a week?" Samer nodded, and waved as Briar and Zak picked their way through the busy street.   
  
"Wow," Zak said. "That was neat. Let's go do some more." Briar nodded, deep in thought. Zak laughed. "Oh, c'mon Briar. Admit it to yourself, if not to me. You _like _her. _Love _her. It's obvious already."   
  
"What?!"   
  
His friend ticked off points with his fingers. "First, you blush everytime I say her name. Second, you looked like murdering someone when that man Samer told you she had guys after her already. You jealous dog. Third, you don't talk to, see, or go out with _any _females. Thats plain weird, here. Fourth, you sit for hours when writing her letters. Fifth, when you wake up in the night, I can hear you say, 'Wish Sandry were here,' before dozing off."   
  
"You little spy, you."   
  
"It's true." The boy crossed his arms. "Don't deny it. Sixth, you carry that damn hanky and scarf just about everywhere. Seventh, you keep all her letters in a box all nice and pretty, and other letters go into an empty jar under your desk. Eighth-"   
  
Briar sighed. "All right, stop already."   
  
"Do you admit it, then?" Zak asked eagerly.   
  
"Maybe." His friend laughed a little bit before falling into step behind him quietly.   
  
Why was he jealous? Then he allowed himself to think about how nice she was, wonderfully understanding and caring, so unlike the girls Zak knew, who Briar avoided like a plague. Remembered how she would sit up with him when he had nightmares, no matter how old or how late it had been. Even when the other two were too deeply asleep to hear, without fail her soft footsteps would patter from across the hall.   
  
He also allowed himself to think about himself, and that those girls also considered him "cute" with his floppy black hair and green eyes. Also tall, not too bad build for a guy his age. Would that make a difference at all, or would Sandry simply consider him a friend only, or just another guy after all? A Roach?   
  
But he threw that bit out of his mind, because she was better than that. She was too kind, and compassionate, to think of him as street-rat. He was a fool for even thinking of it. And he was going nuts, Briar decided.   
  
Zak kept quiet, hoping that his friend would crack and tell him the truth about his "girlfriend in Emelan," or so he put it. But he didn't, and Zak pouted the whole way before seeing a pretty girl go by and wave at him, then he perked up a bit. "You have a one-track mind, Zak," Briar told him, but the blonde boy simply grinned.   
  
"Women love me, Briar-boy," he said, before getting punched in the arm.   
  
"Yeah, they love for you to go away!" He received a solid cuff to his head, and laughed.   
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
So that day, with luck, Briar found a thick volume for Tris about the pattern of tides in the great Southern Ocean, its pages a fresh, clean white. The new leather binding felt soft in his hands, and he hoped she would find it remotely interesting. Rosethorn got packets of seeds, those that were grown in the climate of this city and not Emelan.   
  
Perhaps the challenge could occupy her time, and keep her from murdering Crane.   
  
Lark got several skeins of the soft expensive wool, taken from the different breed of sheep herded outside the city. Gorse got a cookbook and a pair of local utensils, a two pronged fork and a long handled spoon. Niko, the mage himself, got a biography of himself, a story so strange that Briar wondered if it were true. He hadn't known that much about Niko, and never thought he would.   
  
And for Sandry, which was a slightly harder operation, since he had to escape Zak to find a gift to avoid any teasing, he went back past Samer's booth to the small store on the corner. After pretending to go home and leaving his friend in the rented building, Briar snuck off to the metalcraft and searched it's racks.  
  
It was the strangest thing, he told himself, after some introspection. "Would you like any help?" the man at the counter asked. "Anything in mind?"   
  
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know... "Can I just look around a bit?" The man nodded kindly.   
  
He wandered through racks of necklaces, bracelets, hairpins, _nosepins, _earrings, rings... Nothing seemed right. Once his eye caught a pendant, a pretty daisy flower with a small topaz set in the center, but it was a bit childish for a _princess. _A princess with suitors piling up at her door. That green-eyed monster of envy was knawing at his throat already, and it had been only an hour since he had heard.   
  
Briar himself was confused about that strange line between friendship and more-than-friendship, but nooo...he was cities away, restrained to letters and...Midwinter gifts. Which he had no idea what to get.   
  
Browsing through the inventory, his finger dropped to a slim golden ring, it's slender circle graced with a curling rosebud, a small emerald cradled in its twining vines. "Scuze me?" he asked the man. "Can I take this?" Exchanging money once again, the ring was safe in his pocket in a small wooden box before he even considered that it was a strange gift to give to a "friend."  
  
"Oh well," he muttered. "Too late anyway. Besides, its pretty, right? Just a gift."   
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. midwinter

heys...  
  
~~~~~~~~~~Sandry, 15  
  
A knock sounded at the door of Sandry's guest room, now permanently her personal chambers. Running to the door, she threw it open. "Daja!" she cried, jumping up and down with excitement.   
  
The dark girl smiled sedately. "It's raining," she said, irrelevantly, though her braids were plastered with the downpour. Throwing her bag on the floor, she sighed happily. "Can't wait to be back in my ol' red room. Or 'crimson sunrise', as that dork would say."   
  
"But you're back!" Sandry sighed, contented. "Just in time for Midwinter! Where's Frostpine?"   
  
Daja grinned. "Hiding in the cart. He said he'd be damned if he stepped out in the rain, so he's in exile. He said he preferred living and dying in that cart rather than being soaked." Sandry fought back a laugh. "What are you up to, friend? I mean, what happened?"   
  
The noble tried to maintain a blank expression. "What?"   
  
"I mean, we've all heard about your Princess-dom in some way or another, though I think the thief-boy had the most violent experience-"   
  
Sandry made a protesting sound. "Violent experience?"   
  
"Well, from his letter, he had a panic attack, and judging from his handwriting (which looks like catscratch anyway) he was desperate."   
  
"Well, he never told _me_." Slight jealousy pricked in her mind, but she shoved it away fiercely. It's not as if he likes me back, she thought furiously.   
  
A Emelan guard appeared at the door. "Milady, there's a messenger for you in the hall. A merchant named Samer of the Aschulin clan, Silk Guild."   
  
Daja looked blank but Sandry smiled. "Samer! All right, thank you. I shall be there in a moment." The guard bowed and left. Sandry grabbed her silk shawl and ran out the door. "Samer!"   
  
The man bowed, mustache twitching. "Your Highness," he teased. "But I have some packages to deliver to you and the Kisubo smith. From the boy Briar, whom I've met up with in my travels. I hate to run, but-" he lifted the box- "I have to catch up with my caravan."   
  
"Thank you," Sandry told him, taking the light box, and he quickly was out the door, an oiled robe over his dark clothes as he disappeared trhrough the gardens. "What a nice man."   
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Tearing into the pasteboard box, the two came up with wrapped packages for Lark, Rosethorn, Gorse, Niko, Vedris, Daja, and Sandry. "How did he know you were going to be here?" Sandry asked.   
  
Daja shrugged. "Maybe Niko told him?"   
  
"Yeah. Well, it's basically Midwinter's day right now-" the clock ticked one o'clock- "so I can open it!" Sandry grinned. "I love being childish, it's so much fun."   
  
Daja pulled out a stitched silken cloth. "Oh, this is great! I can cover my Kisubo box with it, last week I accidentally scratched the top with a incense holder." Holding up the brilliant cloth, she smiled. "I think it'll fit perfectly. I think-" she paused, touching the corner of the cloth. "There's some kind of magic here. Don't know what it is..." She shrugged. "Protection, most likely."   
  
"It must be Samer's guild's make, they have some mages to do that," the noble replied. She opened the smallish box, pulling off the plain brown paper to expose the lid. Fingers agile, she opened it and gasped.   
  
The trader perked up. "What happened?"   
  
"It's nice," she choked out. Turning the box in the light, the metal rose gleamed and the emerald, small but clear, shimmered. The facets winked at her, like a green eye that belonged to...  
  
Turning her hand, Daja peered in. "Oh, I just knew it!" she cried aloud, grinning her face off. Staring at the rose, then the gemstone, she continued: "This must have cost him."   
  
"Just knew what?" Sandry's heart was in her mouth, but she kept it firmly shut as she watched her friend anxiously.   
  
Daja looked at her funny. "I think he has a crush on you. Actually, more like in love. He was going nuts when Samer or something told him the Nemornese were pushing suitors at you."   
  
Sandry, remembering the greasy young men, grimaced. "_I_ went nuts too, when they did that. Daja..."   
  
"D'you like him, too?"   
  
She blushed. "Um, yeah, but it's hard. I haven't seen him for forever, and letters are so slow. I miss him, and sometimes I wonder...what if he met someone else, and-"   
  
"Oh, you two. We knew it was going to happen, though I think Tris is in denial. After all, he kept following you around, and you comforted him the most, and _he _comforted you the most, and, oh yeah, that time in the mountains when he tried to feed you berries...? Must I go on?!"  
  
Sandry hit her with a small pillow. "All right. Stop. I get it, and I also admit...things," she said diplomatically. "However...what do you mean, Tris is in denial?!"   
  
Daja flinched slightly. "She likes him, too."  
  
"What a party. What about you?"   
  
"Nah," the trader laughed. "No thieves for me, I only accept metalmakers."   
  
"Good, otherwise we would have a really weird circle of friendship..." Sandry slipped the ring on her index finger. "I think I'm going to go insane. But one thing...Uncle made the Nemornese promise to let me live here, and also to not marry me off. They have five other princesses to do that to."   
  
"Yet they're still trying to set you up with stupid guys...?"   
  
"Unfortunately. Briar better come to visit soon, or there will be a dead suitor in the courtyard as a warning to others." Daja laughed, before handing Sandry her own Midwinter gift. "He gave you something nice, if i must say so myself. Are you ever going to tell him?"   
  
"I don't know," she said, remembering the letter and charm she had slipped into the pocket of her gift to the plant-mage. _Dear Briar. I miss you so much...Love Sandry. _And the charm itself, a small silver and gold pendant on a black silk cord, the deep green stone imbedded into the silver circle etched with protection and love. "Perhaps he knows?" She slid the golden circle onto her first finger, which it fit perfectly. "Perhaps..."   
  
~~~~~~~  
  
  
  



	7. return

heys...sorry its all screwy, but i never read briars c o book so im making it up teh way i freaking want it to be! :) its all wrong...and im writing this while ff.net is down.   
  
~~~~~~~~~Briar, age 16  
  
Running through Zak's door and yanking the sheets off his friend, Briar yelled, "Niko's letting me go back for a while! Wake up, you lazy lump!"   
  
Zak mumbled, snoring slightly as he pulled a pillow over his head. "Great. You can go meet that girl you like. Leeme 'lone, now."   
  
"Zak!"   
  
"Well, it's true."   
  
"But Zak!" he cried aloud. "I'm going back! In two months, Niko's coming to get me. I get to travel, the Duke guy is sponsoring the trip, and I get to see everyone, especially..." He stopped, as Zak began to laugh at him.   
  
"I told you." Rubbing his blue eyes awake, he sat up and simply slumped over. "Besides, you wear that charm thing around you neck all the time-" he gripped it subconsciously with his hand, fingers searching out the small engravings.   
  
"I can't wait!" he yelled, flying out of the room with speed, jumping over obstacles and nearly smashing into his own door. "I'm going to Emelan!"   
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
He was packed, entirely, before he drew on the soft, dark green cloak, it's woolen warmth protecting him from the chilly rain. Briar's callused fingers stroked the cloth, savoring the tiny, almost imperceptible leaves woven into the pattern.   
  
The waggon clattered up the cobblestone walk, and the driver hopped out cheerily. "Hello, lad. Briar Moss, t'would presume? Master Goldeye cannot make it, poor chum. But he tol' me, Ashmer Jemal, to tell you that you can bring someon' along, seeing as he already paid for two."   
  
"Niko's not coming?" Briar was utterly confused. "Wasn't he-"  
  
Ashmer laughed heartily. "Had to go collect the girl Trisana from her studies. He figgered that both of you haven't been home for a while, and the Duke and her Ladyship Sandrilene rather wanted at least three of you younguns to be there for the Autumn Banquet. The metalgirl would be there later, though. "   
  
"Oh. Okay." He could accept that, at least. But Tris there...? That might change some things...like, for one, no privacy, along with sarcastic comments and frank appraisals of his sticky situations. How would he talk to Sandry with Coppercurls there? "Well, that's good, anyway."   
  
The man leaned against his waggon comfortably, patting the two horses that pulled the sturdy cart. "Well, I'm waiting, lad. T'other? He can pack fast. Her Ladyship said she would provide anything needed."   
  
"Sandry was sure specific," he said, before trotting back into the building. "Hey, Zak? Zak! Can't you be awake for two minutes?" Dashing up the stairs, he roused the blonde boy and managed to shout the information into his sleepy head.   
  
Ten minutes later, his parents shocked and pleased with the "fine invitation," Zak and his bags bundled into the back of the waggon. "We're going to Emelan!" his friend cried aloud, his bright face joyous. "Hey, I can meet that girl of yours."   
  
"She's not my girl..." Briar protested, face flushed.   
  
"Yet."   
  
"And you have to promise me, not to say a single word about this. Promise?" Briar poked Zak in the arm, who nodded meekly.   
  
"Course, Briar-ol'-buddy, wouldn't even dream of it. Unless..."   
  
That last comment launched a noisy argument, until Ashmer yelled over the din, "Can't a fellow have a bit of peace and quiet while he's drivin' horses through the rain? You bludging idiots! D'you want these scurvy 'scuzes rearin' on me and all? They're a mite dangerous." With that, Ashmer gestured to the sleepy though fit horses, whose hooves clumped morosely through the soggy mud. "Sorry, boys, we'll get you into your dry stable soon," he told them, while Briar and Zak laughed.   
  
~~~~~~~~~  



	8. to be with you again...

_well, yeah this story will be just a bit unconventional. well, not really, but they don't dance all night and go to the rose garden and kiss (hey i wrote that one before). in fact, they're probably gonna suck at dancing if they even get to, piss off tris (that rhymes), be horribly awkward, and then ....whoops! theres a big big problem! Conflict...well, they don't get to say much romantically before they are screwed over by the bad guy. I won't tell you whats gonna happen, but hehes.   
  
u guys like Zak? he's in one of my other stories too, same characteristics, same broken nose, but slightly older. he's my universal guy. im probably going to use him a lot...i like him. he's fun and cheerful and funny and cute in a weird way...well, i donno, im dreaming about a fake guy i made up. well, im tired, and i have a big test tomorrow, so i can afford to be nuts.   
  
its mushy and awful in this chapter. it will be worse the next, but then it will pick up...slowly...  
_  
~~~~~~~~sandry, 16  
  
She combed her long hair slowly, letting the ivory teeth run gently though the well-worked strands. "Today," Sandry told her reflection, "And Tris tomorrow!" The news had been delivered this morning, and she felt as if the world had been handed to her on a silver platter.   
  
Sandry was scared silly, for the first true time in her life. Even the dark cellar, the net of nothingness, the time her magic had whispered to her of the woman's murder, those had been calculated fears. She knew what to do, or what she should be doing, and so therefore her hands had some small strip of sanity to grasp. But this...was entirely unknown.   
  
How would she act? What would happen? And most importantly, did he like her back? For she had this strange feeling, as if her heart was already given away, and if he did not care for her as she did him life would not be worth living.   
  
But she had only a few hours to wait. Dammit.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Hey," Briar shouted. "Zak, we're here. All you do is sleep, wake up you lump!"   
  
He groaned. "Yeah."   
  
Ashmer banged the side of the waggon. "Now, get out, you all. We're here, and its a pretty bit of stone, don't you think?" His arm gestured widely to the large palace and gardens.   
  
"Home sweet home," Briar mumbled. "C'mon, Zak, there's a back way in." Grabbing their bags, the two boys waved merrily as Ashmer drove his cart away to the stables. "It's secret, you know. Don't tell-" he began, before a dark shadow slipped through the bushes ahead of him. "Aw, I guess it ain't a secret, after all. Wait up!" he called to the figure, who slipped through the hedge and managed to disappear.   
  
"Who was that?"   
  
"Dunno. Doesn't matter, does it?"   
  
They emerged through the hedges into the spectacular garden, blooming beautiful flowers that called out to him happily. _Where's the string-girl? _he asked them.   
  
The blossoms clamored for his attention. _The thread mage? She's near the roses, and did you know she can talk to us a little bit? _a daffodil said, her slightly empty mind quite content with the simple life of a garden plant.   
  
_She can?   
  
A little bit.   
  
Thank you. _He walked quickly towards the section that smelled of roses, Zak following behind in awe.   
  
"We're staying _here?" _he asked, oblivious to the conversation that had just taken place. "Here?" His open face registered absolute shock. "It's awfully nice. Look at this place!"   
  
"Well, yeah. It's the Duke's." Briar kept a steady pace, down the small path to the rose garden, the pale pink petals already visible. Turning a corner and nearly nicking his elbow on a large thorn, he caught sight of a figure sitting on a stone bench, playing with a tiny grey kitten. He stopped, breath caught in his throat, as she turned. The gauzy pink scarves woven into her long, loose golden-brown hair trailed to her waist, and lovely blue eyes blinked in surprise. "Briar?" she called out. "Is that you?"   
  
Zak stood still, mouth gaping. "Oh, wow, Briar. You sure pick 'em. Not that you've picked any in Yanjing, but not that I blame you...Gods..."  
  
"Shut up," he hissed. Zak grinned a little bit at his friend's anger, fingering the bend in his broken nose.   
  
Sandry stood up, the kitten placed gently on the bench. "I can't believe it!" she cried aloud, running up and colliding with such force that they spun around twice as his bags were abandoned on the pavement. "It's been so long already!"   
  
Her arms felt marvelous around his neck, but he forced himself to forget that aspect at the moment. "I've missed you so much!" he blurted out, but she smiled shyly anyway, staring up from her shorter height, at least two handlengths below him; she dropped her arms hastily but yet clasped his hand in both of hers.   
  
"I'm forgetting something," he muttered. "Zak, this is Sandry, Sandry Zak. Niko went to get Tris, right, so I brought him. For some reason. He slept the whole time."   
  
"Hello," she said, smiling cheerfully. Her arms had slipped away from her embrace, sadly, but she still retained his hand in hers. Briar doubted he could remember much more than his name and perhaps the words "I like Sandry" at the moment, for she would not relinquish his hand. Not that he wanted her to, after all. "I've heard about you from Briar. It's nice to meet you."   
  
Zak gaped a bit more, like a fish, before mumbling a quiet, "Hello."   
  
"We have to tell Uncle! He'll be so pleased," she said happily. Picking up the kitten, Sandry turned back to the two boys. "Ready to go? This is Rosie," she told him. "I found her in the rose bushes, and adopted her." The kitten wrinkled its tiny pink nose and purred at him, batting at his curly hair with a tiny paw. "I think she likes you." Sandry smiled up into his face, and Briar blushed while Zak grinned and stared longingly at Sandry until the plant-mage shot him a warning glare.   
  
"Let's go! The banquet is tomorrow, and we still have to find you two something nice to wear! I'll check the Stores, there should be something..." She tugged at his sleeve in the direction of the castle, and the flowers chuckled to Briar as his mind clouded over and his face flushed. In fact, he was so caught up in the moment that he entirely forgot about the shadowy figure in the hedges.   
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  



	9. clothes?!

_hi! thanks for commenting, even if you disagree. its good, actually, challenging my original thinking-ness. thats not a word.   
  
sometimes I disagree with s/b myself, but I kind of like it, in a way. sucker for traditional fairytales, noble and street rat, rich and poor, all happy in the end.   
  
oh and star- the cat is bad. i love cats, don't get me wrong, but its bad. its not an innocent damn kitten, its bad.   
  
as a comment, a tris/niko story would be cool, but like daine and numair, and even worse this time, he's a bit too old. i always thought for like a pairing they would get along the best, but too bad he isn't a whole bunch younger.   
  
and this is a stupid, clothes oriented chapter. i wasted a whole bunch of time writing it...and don't worry, there will be a bit of conflict, not a kiss and thats it, maybe they will have to work a bit harder. theres a bad guy, too. those are annoying sometimes, i know because i write them.   
  
Ah shits, this chapter is mushy and awful too. its silly and steriotypically romantic...dammit   
  
by the way, are you guys able to upload a new story? because the site doesn't let me, and i dont know if its just my comp or if its the entire site. _  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Well," Sandry said critically, staring at both Zak and Briar, "How about this?" Rummaging neatly through the piles, in her hands appeared a blue and silver tunic, stitched with a network of sunbursts, stars, and moons, and a dove grey breeches and soft white shirt for Briar.   
  
Zak stared at the bright cloth, his country-bred eyes dazzled, but Briar stared instead at the closet, piled high with embroideries, clothes, tunics, dresses... "You've been really busy."   
  
Sandry grinned. "Well, I have had a bit of time in my hands. Uncle let me sit in on his Council meetings, and some of his chauvanistic ministers protested until they saw me doing domestic tasks while in the room." She shrugged, her outrage barely supressed. "Uncle doesn't mind, and when I'm old enough perhaps I can be his scribe or helper. If I don't attack his ministers."   
  
Zak laughed. "So you made shirts and clothing."   
  
"Sewing, second nature. I still listened, but..." she grinned. "I ended up with this stash. That's how I got to know Samer a bit, and his guild. Buying more stuff to do." Sandry handed him a shirt, pale blue with matching silver embroideries on sleeve ends. "I have to fit you all now, " she told them, pointing to the painted Nemornese paper screens at the other end of her room. "Call me when you're ready." She slipped out the door quietly, leaving them with the finery.  
  
As soon as she left the room, Zak let out a held-in breath. "Man, she's something," he commented wistfully. "Any girl or woman from Yanjing wouldn't dare defy the council...and look at this! I've never seen such fine work." He held up the darker blue pants and smiled. "I've never worn anything so nice."   
  
"This _is _nice," Briar said, stroking the soft nap of the white shirt. Peering at the smooth, thickly woven cloth, he saw that a pattern of leaves and briars had been woven into the shirt cuffs. "This must have taken her forever."   
  
From outside, Sandry had returned to the doorway and was shouting, "Can I come in?"  
  
"Yeah," Briar called out. "We're decent."   
  
She only had to slightly alter the clothing for both of them, though Zak jumped visibly as her magic plucked at his slightly-long sleeves. After it had been altered, with magic-wielded string, she sent him to search for the "light blue room," three doors from the end of the hall, left side.   
  
Sandry frowned at Briar, standing stiffly in the fine clothing. "It fits rather well," she said critically, "I'm sorry it isn't green, but I think the only green tunic I had would have been too small- you've gotten taller. And anyway, it was pretty much made for you."   
  
"Really?" he asked, incredulous. She made it for me?   
  
"Actually, yes, it was." With small, flicking motions, the cloth settled smoothly to his shoulders and conformed. "I think it's the same silk as my dress, the shirt. It was so nice I had to get a lot of it, for some reason. Only a few adjustments...are you set for anything else? Regular clothes? Stuff?"   
  
"Yeah," he said, "At least I think so. I'm just glad to be back." He crossed through the bathingroom. "Am I here, or somewhere else this time?" He peered into the green room, and greeted the shakkan, sitting happily in the corner.   
  
"Here," she said happily, watering the infamous and now very timid ficus tree in the corner.   
  
Zak returned a few minutes later, in his regular clothes. "Hi," he said, sitting in one of the chairs. "Oh, so soft," he said happily.   
  
Both Briar and Sandry grinned. "It's nice," she replied. "Sometimes, I sleep on the couches. It's comfortable too, and sometime the beds are awfully oppressing." She pointed to the huge canopied thing in the corner, draped with ornate brocade. "And the fireplace is closer to the couches, too."   
  
The Yanjing boy looked so content that Sandry just had to laugh. "Is your room okay? Because theres a lot more, if you would rather..."   
  
"Oh, but its great!" he said enthusiastically. "I've never been in a room so big!"   
  
Briar laughed. "Then you're in for a shock, Zak. You gotta see the ballroom."   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  



	10. before the ball

_thanks for reviewing! yes, im drawing it out. im not actually sure where i should go with the story, other than that there will be a bigggg problem. but for your several days waiting, this is a verrry long chapter. and there is more than this, oaky?  
  
why are you all so against briar and sandry? im not against briar and tris that much, it's just another match. and i think that these briar and sandry are the most interesting characters, because tamora pierce didn't delve into tris' psyche enough yet.   
  
by the way, i gotta ask, does the site allow you to upload new stories? when i go to "upload new stories" some kind of error happens...i want to know if it's just me or not...  
  
i hope everyone is all right, in light of the tragedy this week. i've had this awful feeling since it happened, and im wondering how all you other people, from wherever you are, feel about this. _  
~~~~~~`  
  
Tris was expected either that night or the morning, Briar knew, and he hoped there would be enough time to see Sandry without the touchy Coppercurls in the way. Or that Pasco boy, whom he had met a couple of hours before. The tall lad, fourteen, had looked him over warily before asking him, "Are you in love with Sandry?"   
  
She had made a strangled noise and he was out the door in one second, but she still was furious. "Pasco, you have better watch out," she warned, waving one finger at her student. He guffawed, neatly trotting out of her reach.   
  
"Just asking," Pasco called over his shoulder, before her scarf launched itself at his head. "Ahh! Yazmin!" he yelled, only to be answered by her scathing remark: "What now? It was probably your fault, anyway. Come here and practice."   
  
Sandry turned back to Briar, cheeks red. "Sorry about that," she muttered. "He can be such a strange one sometimes." Briar grinned back, wondering what she was thinking at the moment. Hastily changing the subject, she asked brightly, "Where's Zak?"   
  
Briar laughed a little bit. "He said he had never tasted such good wine that wasn't _strong at all,_" he told her, and she giggled. "He's sleeping it off. I forgot to tell him that it was a bit different than his Inn's dark ale. Theirs is nearly like water," he explained.   
  
She grinned a little, sympathetic. "Is he embarrassed?" she asked kindly. Sandry leaned on the windowsill, elbows on the cold sculpted stone. The breeze was growing chilly, she noted, but she didn't want to return to her own room yet.   
  
"Not really, no one was there but you, Pasco, and me. Not too bad," he commented. "He's probably disgraced himself far more before."   
  
"Oh. Well, if his head starts to hurt in the morning, Dedicate Moonstream showed me how to weave a remedy into cloth. It helps aches of all kinds, I think," Sandry said cheerfully. "Maybe it can help."   
  
A knock sounded at the door, and it opened, revealing the Duke. "Get some rest, both of you," he said kindly. "I know you want to talk, but tomorrows going to be a long day." He made a face. "Sandry, I will need your help tomorrow, and Trisana is also arriving in the morning."   
  
"Thank you, Uncle," Sandry responded, and Briar agreed. Vedris smiled and shut the door again, his heavy footsteps slowly thudding down the hallway. "Excuse me a moment, then," she told Briar. "I'll be back, but I'm going to change for bed."   
  
After she left, he did the same. Strange, wasn't it? Like old times, almost, like Discipline. Briar shrugged into a lighter cloth shirt, and the old breeches he used for nightwear. He never bothered with nightshirts, they were for sissies anyway. He sprawled at the window seat, head on one of the beautifully embroidered cushions. Sandry reentered in a moment, grinning.   
  
"Never will change, will you?" she asked. "Always the same clothes." He nodded, feigning an apologetic posture. Sandry settled by the window, propping her chin on her knees. She wrapped herself more tightly in her shawl. "Gods, it's cold," she commented idly, tucking herself under the deep cushions. "I thought it was supposed to be a warm night."   
  
Briar shrugged. "I'm warm. Maybe if you wore more clothes, it would help." Then covered his mouth hastily. So he liked her dress a little. He didn't have to be such a chuffle, but it was lovely. He jerked his eyes away from her hair, where it was braided and pinned sturdily above her bare neck. "Oh, whoops. I shouldn't have said that, right?"  
  
"What?" she shrieked, hitting him with the flat of her palm. "Not. Not true, its perfectly acceptable attire." Actually, a bit not, she admitted to herself. But it was pretty, and she liked it. The rose-colored ribbons tied at her shoulder, the only sleeves the shift had. And the cloth, a soft white, fell softly to the floor from an umpire bodice, and though the top itself was sufficiently high, it was...different. Her friend Kairi in the city told her that boys could not resist a bare neck and shoulders. So she foolishly tried it. Ah, well, too late.   
  
"Well," he replied waspishly, before rolling over to close the window. "Yeah, it's a little bit cold." Briar turned his face to the window, waiting for the blush to go away. It _was _pretty, and so was she; however, he didn't want to admit it just yet.   
  
She curled up, like a cat, on the cushions next to him. Yawning, she picked up the grey kitten, placing it gently on the pillow next to her. "Tired," she said, snuggling into the soft, deep rug.   
  
"Yeah." Even against her will, Sandry felt her eyelids drooping. The lights dimmed and faded as she fell asleep. Briar watched her for a moment, before curling up beside her. What would Zak say? Or do? A smile made the very edges of his mouth turn up with mirth.   
  
He knew it was stupid, and that he really shouldn't. But so tempting! And another thing just like old times: he knew it would bother her (though hopefully she wouldn't mind) and that it would make her mad at him. Briar grinned, wondering what the reaction would be if she knew he was watching her sleep.   
  
He folded himself next to her, settling on the elegant cushions with a small sigh. Sandry muttered and rolled over, her hair gently touching his chin before she was still again, nearly in the curve of his arms. Exhaling slowly, Briar tried not to move; she didn't stir.   
  
Willing himself to fall asleep, so his decision would not change, he succeeded and the world receeded into darkness.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A clatter below them woke him, and the sunlight drifted through his closed lids. Opening one green eye, and then the other, he was rewarded with the image of Sandry, still sleeping. Then his gaze trained down to his arm, around her waist, and he nearly jumped up from where he lay.   
  
Schooling his breath to a near minimum, Briar blinked twice before calming his nerves. Slightly.   
  
She was curled up against him, twined firmly close in his arm, with her forehead resting against his chest. So close, in fact, he believed he could hear her heart softly beating against his own. Her hand, small but very strong (he knew very well from his Discipline days), was neatly holding his upper arm. With a slight start, he realized that his golden rose ring graced her index finger.   
  
He was glad he hadn't moved, otherwise waking her and frightening the both of them. Briar suddenly realized the precarious situation and his insides froze, but surprisngly not from shock.   
  
The sounds below, the clattering and horsehooves, increased to a volume that was no longer ignorable. Sandry stirred, inhaling deeply, then opened her bright blue eyes. Now, if he wasn't such an idiot, he would have kept his eyes closed and pretended to be sleeping. But, instead, he met her gaze squarely and the noble's eyes widened.   
  
Every nerve on fire, from his hand on her waist to their touching legs, he uttered one hesitant word. "Sandry?" The tiny crease between his eyebrows, the curling, ever-messy hair disheveled, only increased his look of uncertainty. Not that she felt any better.   
  
"Yes?" she asked quietly, attempting nonchalance, but her voice betrayed more than she might have wished.   
  
He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Sandry watched, entranced, as he shifted his face a bit closer to hers, leaning slightly forward until their lips were only a hand's length away and-  
  
And just below the window, a loud voice said grumpily. "Hey, you guys!"   
  
Simultaneously, the two sat up, shielded from view by the heavy, closed curtains. "Tris?" Sandry called out, blushing furiously. "Is that you?"   
  
"Yeah," came the reply. "Barely made it for the holidays. 'Autumn Banquet,' Niko said, 'Couldn't miss it.' "   
  
"I'll get dressed," Sandry said hurriedly. Standing hastily, still a flushed red, she turned to leave. Quickly, Briar grabbed her hand, and the noble paused. The strange look in his green eyes warmed her cheeks as he stared searchingly into her own blue eyes. Shyly, she squeezed his palm before dashing off to her room.   
  
Dressing, Briar couldn't quite meet Sandry's eyes as she slipped back into his room. They instead ran to meet Tris in the hallway, where she was struggling with the heavy hall door. After a round of hugs, which Briar didn't especially enjoy, they turned back to the chambers. The windmage stood in front of Sandry's door, trying the knob. "How come it's locked?" she asked, puzzled. "How did you get out into the hallway, without opening your own door?"   
  
Both Sandry and Briar looked mortified for a moment, for there was no true way to explain that. "Oh!" she muttered, attempting a diversion. "Wait! We have to wake up Zak!" Briar agreed eagerly, and they nearly sprinted to the sleeping boy's door.   
  
"Who's Zak?" Tris demanded, running a hand through her messy hair. She looked practically the same after all these years, with glasses and grey eyes. The only real change was that her hair nearly reached the bottom of her ears, a feature that testified her growing control over lightning.   
  
"Zak's Briar's friend," Sandry explained, glancing shyly at the plant mage. Tris glanced at the two of them, slightly puzzled at their bizarre antics. "He's from Yanjing." She raised her delicate hand to tap politely at the doorway, but instead Briar opened the door and barged in.   
  
"Zak, wake up," he said loudly, stomping over to the bed. "It's morning."   
  
"Ow," the reply came from the mass of sheets. "Too loud."   
  
Sandry glared at Briar, glad of the excuse to look at him with mock indignation hiding her emotions. "Here," she pulled a silken cord out of her skirt pocket. "I truly thought you might need this." With deft motions, she tied the white cord around his wrist in an intricate knot.   
  
"Hey, my head feels a lot better," Zak said gratefully, sitting up. "Thanks."   
  
Tris snorted.   
  
"Hi," the blonde boy said brightly. "Did I meet you yesterday?" Zak sat up, entirely dressed from when Briar dumped him, snoring drunkenly, in his guest chambers. "I don't remember..."  
  
She grunted softly. "No, but not that you'd remember. If I were you, I would watch how many fair maidens you toast during the ball tonight."   
  
"Toast? Fair maidens?" Zak asked, confused.   
  
Sandry smiled. "A tradition, in this area. A fable and a bit of superstition, I must say. Tris?" she asked, "Explain?"   
  
The redhead shrugged. "Actually, that's all I know about the ceremony. I think we'll defer to the expert, unless Briar claims knowledge, for once?" Tris looked at the boy, but he looked blank. Once again, Sandry remembered Daja's words, and wondered if Tris really did have feelings for Briar, for she did seem to look at him a lot.   
  
Sandry sighed. "Centuries ago, the Autumn Festival was celebrated in the rural areas that is now Emelan. It's dreadfully romantic," she warned. Both Briar and Zak looked plagued, but Tris' eyes lit up.   
  
"I need a good tale," she said eagerly.   
  
"Fine," Sandry said. "A farmer's daughter, a young woman, had fallen in love with the son of the village's headman. Though they begged, the couple wasn't allowed to marry, for she was already betrothed against her will to an older man of their liking."   
  
"Oh, gods," Zak muttered, looking disgusted. "Its one of those stories."   
  
"Yes, it is," the noble replied waspishly. "They planned their scheme in secret, with the hope that their parents would not disregard the union. The Autumn is when the Gods look down at the harvests, and they believed such holy witnesses would deter the parent's wrath."   
  
Briar rolled his eyes, but continued with the plot nonetheless. "The lovers decided to meet in the woods on the night of the Autumn Feast, to drink the cup of marriage on the day the gods deemed blessed. The boy made his way undiscovered, luggin' the required wine, but the girl was stopped by her parents."   
  
"They attempted to hold her as she slipped through the fence, but in a fit of rage her father shoved her into the millpond. She drowned, and though her father regretted his anger after, it was far too late." Sandry added. "The young man waited for long hours, until he heard the trees themselves whispering of her death."   
  
The plantmage shrugged. "He went nuts. The lad drank the toast to his girl's spirit, vowing his 'eternal love,' before leaping into the river to join her in death. They say the stars themselves, bid by the maiden, lifted his dead body from the water."  
  
"That's so sad," Tris said breathlessly, and even Zak looked a bit interested.   
  
"That's why its tradition," Sandry finished, "to raise a goblet of crimson wine to only one individual this night, usually the person whom you have affection for. And under the stars, which is why the banquet is held outside, if weather permits."   
  
"So we do that?" Zak asked, confused. "I mean, we don't gotta marry them or nothing, right?"   
  
Sandry rolled her eyes. "What do you think?" she teased, blushingly aware of Briar standing beside her. "If that happened, why, I don't think anyone would come to Uncle's banquet! But be careful," she warned. "Don't drink more than a glass, or the charm will wear off."   
  
"Fine," he grumbled.   
  
"And the point is to toast just one female," Briar told him, and Zak made a face. "You remember that, won't you?" Zak laughed, sighing half-heartedly.   
  
"I was never a one-woman man!" he exclaimed jokingly. Briar grinned, knowing how true that statement was about Zak, before wondering what he himself was. A one-woman man...person? He wondered what Sandry was thinking at that very moment.   
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
The next hour saw Briar, Zak, and Pasco in the kitchens, while Sandry struggled with Tris' dress. "Honestly," the noble said, exasperated. "Cannot you stay still for one moment?"   
  
The weathermage scowled. "No." She raised her arms for the sleeves' fitting. "It's nice, though," Tris said grudgingly. Sandry looked at her handiwork, and smiled. The cloud-grey cloth, cut nearly perfectly for Tris' plump figure, was quite becoming, with the darker grey and silver embroideries that decorated the gown.   
  
"Tonight will be fun, will it not?" Sandry asked. "We're mostly together." Nervously, she twisted the rose ring on her finger, a habit that she increasingly used as of late.   
  
"Yeah...Briar sure has changed, hasn't he?" Tris said, glancing wistfully down at her skirt. As she saw the emotion flicker through her friend's grey eyes, Sandry's own blue eyes filled. This morning had been shocking enough, and she was quite sure now that Briar cared for her. Yet, what of Tris? What would she say...for Sandry knew now that Tris had feelings for Briar.  
  
She remembered Daja's words, however. "You cannot punish yourself for what is going to happen anyway," the dark girl had told the distraught noble. "What if you don't ever speak of it? Both of you could live in misery for years, like Rosethorn and Crane. You know they will not even allow themselves to recall those better days. Is that what you want?"   
  
Sandry breathed deeply, dispelling the last of the tears before Tris could see them. "Well, we're ready," she said brightly. "Tonight, I shall weave ribbons through your hair, and put it up."   
  
"Niko won't let me grow it out much," Tris muttered. Her fingers lightly touched the fiercely curling strands, shamefaced. "It's too short."  
  
"It's fine," Sandry told her friend gently. "See?" Fingers directing the silky ribbon, she demonstrated the hairstyle she planned. Tris' face colored with delight. "Lovely," Sandry told her, with a smile born both from happiness for her friend and the guilt that rested deeply and heavily in her breastbone.   
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
  



End file.
